


Urban Panther

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, M/M, Memory Alteration, Prostitution, Torture Mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 2007 LJ Gay Pulp ficathon, where the prompt was a synopsis of a gay romance novel. </p><p>Avon uses money as an excuse for selling himself for sex. He doesn't fool Blake. They clash, and love, in fairly equal parts, but in the Federation, love can be too expensive a commodity for rebels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Urban Panther

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Blake kept his expression neutral as he showed his wrist to the door guard of the Beta 'restaurant'. The guard scanned his wrist under the ultraviolet, revealing the stylized animal that had been stamped on him earlier in the evening, and waved him on to the door behind him. As a security measure it was a joke. Anyone with five credits and fifteen minutes to spare asking in dim-lit corridors could find a stamper who would cheerfully label him 'safe' and give him a list of places open for business tonight.

Blake went through the door, pushed apart the inevitable beaded, bell-hung curtain, and entered the... well, 'den of iniquity' would be pushing it... 'anteroom of titillation'? People looked up from their conversations at the silvery tinkle, staring at him. He felt like a component being examined by quality control.

To be fair, they didn't really need security; what these people were doing wasn't actually illegal, just... frowned upon. Blake had been reluctant to search for recruits here, but Bran had thought it worth a try. Non-standard sexuality between consenting adults might not be outlawed, as religion was, but he said surely they'd be interested in a society where they might be free to openly express their preferences. And since Blake was gay... well, there it was. And besides, Bran thought that the Federation was becoming suspicious of Blake's activities, and something harmlessly deviant would satisfy them.

Bran tended to overthink things, Blake felt. He could better spend his time studying building specs for weaknesses to exploit when Bran gave up on his non-violent protest and they went to phase two. Sooner or later they'd have to show the government they meant business, if they weren't to be disregarded as mere disaffected nonconformists.

Still, he was here, and he had no objection to getting laid for the cause. He smiled as it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps that was Bran's real motivation behind this 'mission'. He could be very paternal. And Blake did get short-tempered when he was too long without sexual relief. He went to the bar and ordered a synth-ale. Then he turned with his back to the bar and his elbows on it as he surveyed the room while sipping at his ale. A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes as he imagined Bran trying to find a discreet way of saying that Blake was driving his cell mad, would he please go find a nice man.

Well, why not? Blake spread his legs to display himself to good advantage and let himself smoulder. Before he finished the ale, he had a young blond on one side and a mature redhead on the other, both trying to chat him up.

Even though he'd decided this was for recreational purposes, Blake's hindbrain was still assessing the room for potential danger, for anything out of the ordinary, and so he noticed the hustler. The man emerged from one of the alcoves with a woman, casually accepted some folded cred-slips from her, kissed her and turned to survey the room with the expression of a hunting predator as she left, a satisfied smile curving her lips. Blake raised his eyebrows and glanced at the redhead, Dev, who was quick to explain. "He's bi, and a leather fetishist. The only way he can afford it is by selling tricks. The management doesn't mind because he's a novelty draw; you don't see many Alpha trickers."

Blake glanced back at the hustler who was now preening in front of a mirror, touching up his eye- and lip-liners. The man was encased sleekly in what Blake had taken for black neo-vinyl, but he had to admit neo-vinyl never looked quite that... real. Something though... something in the set of that too-pretty mouth and those too-arrogant eyes... something didn't match the picture. Blake was intrigued. He couldn't stop looking at him.

Dev sighed after the third time Blake failed to respond to a conversational gambit. "I may as well be philosophical and introduce you to him. Deeta and I can amuse ourselves."

Blake laughed. "Am I that obvious?"

Dev grinned at him, while Deeta pretended not to sulk. "Yes, you are. Come on, Roj, you'll either love Kerr or you'll hate him."

Blake finished his ale and followed Dev. Long-lashed lids swept down and then up again as they approached. "Kerr, this is Roj," Dev said without preamble. Kerr smiled and Blake felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut. Damn, the man was beautiful.

"I'd like to get to know you better," Blake said, moving close enough to smell Kerr's cologne, and a hint of something exciting and exotic that might have been the leather, or the man himself.

Kerr's beautiful smile returned, and his voice was smoke and velvet when he replied. It took a moment for the words, and the accompanying insolent tone, to sink in as Blake was reveling in the sound. "My time is valuable, Roj. How badly do you want to know me?"

Blake had never paid for it before in his life. He hadn't thought that would matter to him, but he now knew that it did. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, peeled off several creds and deliberately reached into the open neck of Kerr's black leather jacket to shove the money in, bills sticking up like an absurd bouquet. "Not that badly, but I don't want to cheat you for the minute I've had." Blake turned on his heel and returned to the bar to order a whiskey. His mood had soured and he rebuffed Dev and Deeta when they followed him. Several whiskeys later, he was building up to a champion glower, his back to the room, and his gaze firmly fixed on the amber liquid in the heavy glass he held. It would, he felt, be pleasant to hurl the glass into the mock-antique mirror behind the bar and follow it up with the bowl of soya-nuts and crispies that sat at his elbow.

But he wouldn't. He couldn't afford to attract that much official attention. He could get a little drunk, though. Just a little. He lifted his head to order another drink,  
and was surprised to see one magically appear. The leather-clad arm holding the drink was attached to Kerr. Blake looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Business slow tonight?"

Kerr smiled, and pushed the drink in front of Blake. "A little." He glanced down and then up again, long eyelashes flickering.

Blake smiled and accepted the drink. "You're a poor liar, Kerr. Your body language gives you away."

Kerr grinned at him while he sipped at his own whiskey. "Let's just say that occasionally I'm willing to give away a free sample in the interest of gaining a new customer."

"Let's say that." Blake studied Kerr and tried to figure out his motivations. The man had a hungry look. He was obviously as proud as any commissioner, which must make life difficult for a ...well, Blake couldn't think of the term for a male nymphomaniac. Satyr? Was that it? Blake hadn't bothered much with the humanities at university, being far more interested in earning his engineering degree so he could do something useful for people. Blake drained his drink and decided to call Kerr's bluff. "All right. I won't turn down a free fuck." He slammed his glass down on the counter and headed for the alcoves at the back. "Are you coming?"

Blake entered the alcove without looking behind him. He took off his over-tunic and hung it on a hook, and then began surveying the supplies dispenser on the wall above the padded shelf that ran the length of the alcove. "A bit cramped," he said cheerfully as he heard the sound-barrier curtain open and shut behind him.

"Yes." Kerr came around in front of Blake, grabbed his hair and kissed him. Blake laughed and responded, reaching around to grope Kerr's buttocks thoroughly. No plass or injected synth-flesh there, if he was any judge of structural materials. 

After a few minutes, Blake broke the kiss, breathing hard, but not half as hard as Kerr. "You want it, don't you?" He stroked the line of arousal bulging his own trousers, making it obvious what Kerr wanted. "You want it badly enough to pay _me_."

Kerr flushed, and Blake admired the color it brought to the man's pale cheeks even while he wondered as to the cause. Anger, lust or embarrassment? MMm... not likely embarrassment, considering the way the man dressed. Kerr's voice was smoke-dark again when he replied, but with an edge to it. Still a toss-up between the two remaining choices, then. "I don't pay," Kerr snarled, even as he dropped to his knees and opened Blake's trousers. Blake was quite enjoying Kerr already. He liked complicated problems.

 _We all pay, one way or another_ Blake thought, but as Kerr had freed his cock and was sucking on it avidly, it really didn't seem the time to discuss philosophy. Kerr had a clever tongue, Blake admitted freely. A very, very clever tongue. He stopped analyzing the man and dug his fingers into Kerr's rich, dark hair, moaning in appreciation as the clever, clever tongue slipped under his foreskin and slid around.

Kerr worked on Blake for several minutes, teasing him to new heights of arousal, then reducing the stimulation and letting Blake regain control before sucking him in deep again. Then he pulled off and sat back on his heels, despite Blake's grip on his hair. When Blake realized this wasn't just a pause for breath, or a change of pace, he growled, "Cock-tease," and thought quite seriously for a fractional second of how good it would feel to have that smooth throat between his hands, and how easy it would be to break that slender neck.

Kerr tilted his head and gave Blake a lop-sided grin that would have been charming under other, less painfully frustrating, circumstances. "That was your free sample. Now that you know I'm worth it..." He turned away from Blake and undid his trousers, dropping them as he leaned up against the wall. "Pay to play the rest of the game."

"Bastard," Blake said, grinning. He did have a soft spot in his heart for stubborn bastards, along with a hard spot in his groin for a pretty arse. And Kerr's arse was really one of the nicest Blake had ever had offered on display. One thing he noticed, Kerr had never mentioned the price. All right then, if he needed the money for whatever twisted psychological reason before he could have the fucking he obviously craved, he could have it. Blake found his wallet and pulled out a handful of credits without counting. He moved up close behind Kerr and wrapped the money around Kerr's cock. Kerr moaned, and began thrusting in an instinctive reaction that made Blake laugh. "Perverse little shit, aren't you?" He said affectionately as he nipped at the back of Kerr's neck, above the genuine silk shirt that clung damply.

"Yes," Kerr agreed, voice even deeper and smokier than before. "Why else are we here?" A trace of petulance crept in as he said, "I do wish you would get on with it."

"Are you ready for me?" While still wanking Kerr with the credits, Blake traced his other hand up between Kerr's buttocks and found slickness. "Yes, I see you are." He pushed in and sighed with pleasure. "Oh, yes."

Kerr moaned and arched his back. "Please!"

"Yes, Kerr." Blake thrust and bit at Kerr's neck. The perverse little bastard enjoyed that, too, writhing desperately as he tried to get his neck, his arse and his cock all closer to Blake at once. "You multi-task." Blake laughed and fucked harder.

Kerr moaned, but tried gamely to keep up the pretense of a normal conversation. "It's what I do for a living..."

"Oh, that accounts for it, then." Blake squeezed Kerr's cock tighter. The credits were becoming damp with pre-come. He imagined Kerr spending them to buy leather garments and Blake's cock impossibly grew even harder. "What do you do, besides fuck like a mink?"

Kerr laughed and groaned in almost the same breath, pushing back to meet Blake's thrusts. "Computer systems analyst... Aquatar project."

Blake laughed and bit Kerr again, wanting to leave his mark. "Small world. I'm head of engineering division for the project."

"Ahhhh. That's good... good to know," Kerr added hastily. "I could use....ahhh... a personal contact...mmm... in that division."

"I could use... a liaison with the computer tech side... of things." Blake was panting heavily now. "A close one." Blake also wondered if Kerr might, after all, be a potential recruit to the rebel cause. Reluctantly, he thought not. Not unless they could pay him enough to let him pretend the money was the only reason. Pity.

Blake suddenly imagined himself introducing sleekly perverse Kerr to rough-hewn honest Bran Foster as a new recruit, and he grinned. Blake was enjoying the whole experience far too much to end it, but eventually he miscalculated and thrust when he should have waited. He shouted and came hard.

"Please!" Kerr said desperately, hands pressed against the wall supporting both of them as Blake slumped against his back.

"MMm... oh, yes." Blake wrapped both arms around Kerr and wanked him hard with both hands. It only took a few seconds, then Kerr was crying out and coming into the wadded up credits. Blake leaned on Kerr for several minutes more, until he noticed the trembling in Kerr's arms.

He pulled out and sat on the padded shelf. Kerr immediately straightened and began pulling his clothes together, stuffing the sticky wad of credits in his jacket pocket before he put it on, then grabbing a moist towelette from the dispenser to tidy his hands. He said nothing to Blake; didn't even look at him. When he was finished with his hasty toilette he turned towards the sound-barrier curtain.

"Kerr." Blake stopped him with his name. He watched the slender back stiffen and wondered what the man was afraid of. "My last name is Blake." He waited. 

Kerr sighed. He didn't turn back to Blake. "I am Avon, Kerr Avon."

"We'll meet again," Blake said with confidence. 

At that, Kerr did turn. He looked at Blake with eyes gone nearly black, all pupils like a wary animal's. "Yes, I'm afraid we will."

"What are you going on about?" Blake grinned and sprawled on the shelf. He hadn't bothered to put himself back away, and his cock lolled insolently along his thigh, drawing Kerr's attention.

"I just..." Kerr made a face as if tasting something bitter. Perhaps that was the wrong simile; he hadn't been at all displeased by the taste of Blake's pre-come. "I just have a feeling."

Blake smiled. "And I take it you don't like having feelings."

"No, I don't," Kerr snapped. "You are either a reasoning being, or you are an animal."

Blake got up then and went over to Kerr, casually using one hand to keep his open trousers from falling. "People are both, Kerr. You don't have to feel guilty about enjoying sex the way you do."

Kerr's head snapped up. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't feel guilty about a damn thing. I got paid, and you got yours. A equitable bargain. Nothing more."

"Of course. I'm certainly not complaining. I had my money's worth. I'll see you around the project, then?"

"Probably." Kerr hesistated. "Oh, damn." He reached out and grabbed Blake, pulling him close for a deep, soul-searing, albeit brief, kiss, and then pushed away from Blake. "If you tell anyone I did that, they'll laugh at you. Everyone knows I'm not a sentimentalist."

"Of course you're not, Kerr." Blake waited until the sound-barrier curtain sealed behind Kerr before he fell back, laughing until the tears ran from his eyes. He was going to enjoy getting to know Kerr.

***

"You know it will never work," Kerr said lazily, lying on his back while Blake played with the hair on his chest.

"Um, I thought it worked just fine a few minutes ago."

Kerr grinned. "You know what I mean. The Aquatar Project's going around in circles. They've put us back on recombinant co-defined radiation again. That's the third time by my reckoning. We've hit nothing but dead ends. It's a pity, because for a while it seemed as if we were on the right track."

"Yes, it's a pity." Blake considered whether or not to tell Kerr that the project had failed because he'd sabotaged vital tests. Teleportation was potentially a tremendously powerful weapon, one the rebellion was desperate to keep from the Federation. Kerr wouldn't understand that, any more than he'd understand how Blake could simultaneously love him and pick his brains for ideas to use against his employers. 

No, Kerr was too damaged to understand that some things were more important than an individual's happiness. Not yet. Someday he'd tell Kerr. Someday. Blake was dozing off, arms wrapped around Kerr, when the troopers broke in.

"What is the meaning of this?" Kerr shouted in outraged innocent citizen fashion as six troopers began tearing Blake's flat apart, while several others stood over the bed, weapons leveled at the lovers in threat.

"Warrant for Roj Blake," a trooper said laconically. Without changing his weapon's aim, he pressed a button on his com, which began spewing a long list of anti-Federation charges, including, but not limited to, sabotaging a vital Federation project, not named for reasons of security.

Kerr turned on Blake in surprise. "Well, aren't you going to explain this is a mistake?"

Blake looked at Kerr bleakly. "The Federation is corrupt."

"Of course it is; what has that got to do with anything?"

"It needs to be brought down."

Kerr stared at Blake in horror. He said softly, "You're mad."

"And you're an accessory before and after the fact," the same trooper said. "Get up and get dressed." A trooper threw a pair of prisoner jumpsuits onto the bed. 

"Kerr didn't know anything about it!" Blake got to his feet to protest, taking the sheets with him. "We were lovers, that's all!"

"Tell it to the Justice Machine." The trooper's helmet inclined as he looked at Kerr's naked body. "Maybe it'll believe you. I would."

The last Blake saw of his lover, troopers were hauling Kerr off to interrogation. He recognized the stubborn look on Kerr's face and shouted, "Kerr, this isn't a game, just tell them the truth, that you knew nothing about me!"

Kerr looked back and him and smiled thinly. "I know one thing about you; you're a fool, Blake. I was an idiot to have anything to do with you."

Then they took Blake away. At first he insisted that Kerr had been his pawn, that the man knew nothing of rebellion. Then they brought him into the room where Kerr was being scientifically tortured and told him they believed him. 

And they'd let Kerr go after Blake gave them the names they wanted. He looked into Kerr's eyes and refused, and watched as love turned to hate. He knew he'd give them the names eventually, drugs and disorienters would take care of that, but if he could hold out long enough, they could escape to the Outside. The Federation wouldn't kill Kerr, he was too valuable a technician. It was simple enough, Kerr's suffering could buy the lives of thirty rebels. He had no choice.

When they finally broke Blake and told him he'd be mindwiped after his confession, it was almost a relief.

***

Two years later, one failed fraud, one dead mistress, and one brain-wiped rebel ex-lover later, Kerr Avon dropped a handful of gleaming jewels on Liberator's teleport console and tried to seduce Jenna with wealth, freedom, and the unspoken offer of his own intimate talents. The beautiful, intelligent pilot lusted after Blake, without realizing that the Federation had so mangled his mind, Blake didn't recall what sex was; hell, he didn't even remember he was gay. Jenna didn't have a chance with Blake. Neither did Avon, not any more.

Blake would never fuck Avon in the treasure room on a bed of diamonds. This new Blake would never, ever see him as anything except an expendable resource in his quest to get them all killed while trying to save the same ungrateful masses who'd unquestioningly believed Blake guilty of child-molestation. 

Jenna wouldn't listen to reason and Avon couldn't handle the ship by himself...not yet, at any rate. So he watched with cold eyes as Jenna teleported Blake back up to the ship along with two more fools to follow him. Very well, Blake would have his followers, but Avon wouldn't be among them.

Blake had betrayed Avon once. He wouldn't get a second chance.

**Author's Note:**

> _And this was the prompt I used:_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _I/J. Jesse, Man of the Streets (Carl Corley, 1968)_
> 
>  
> 
> _In this dark saga of life set in the cities of night, Jesse is one of those strange creatures who belong to the blood-stained and bestial part of the human race. He's a switch-hitting hustler who rides a big bike and wears a black leather jacket, but who sells his box to the highest bidder like a desperate little girl. No wonder he needs to brag about what a he-man he is!_


End file.
